


Madness in 13 Pieces (vaguely connected)

by Mistress_Siana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, F/M, Memory Alteration, Mindfuck, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_Siana/pseuds/Mistress_Siana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt at the asoiafkinkmeme:<br/>AU where Ned was pardoned and sent to the Wall. By some circumstance "Alayne Stone" winds up at Castle Black. They both pretend that they don't recognize each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madness in 13 Pieces (vaguely connected)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird" by Wallace Stevens

**Madness in 13 Pieces (vaguely connected)**

 

i

_Her name is Alayne._

There's another name he calls her by, sometimes, but she doesn't like the way it sounds in his throat: all dark and greedy and too close to her skin.

(There's a bird outside her window, in the snow, that should not be there. It should have flown south a long time ago. Sometimes, she thinks of a song and the bird sings it for her.)

_Alayne._

When he comes to her bed, the bird catches her eye, and then they fly. She knows nothing but the wind and the change of seasons, and in her heart of hearts she knows where to go.

There's a new flock of crows going north; boys from the Riverlands who fought the king. She sings for them, she and her bird, and they're scared of her. _Beastling girl_ , they say; _skinchanger_. She doesn't mind as long as they take her with them.

 

ii

The slaves of old Valyria took songbirds into the mines with them, precious little colourful things, and feared nothing like the death of a song.

In Mole's Town, a blackbird watches the sky for the men of the Night's Watch, and as long as she sings, they know they're safe.

 

iii

The Wolf, like the Halfhand, is a mystery built on the ruins of a name.

 

iv

His lines hold until the snow comes – then, Greyguard seems as good a place to die as any. They burn the bodies of the fallen, and the men who stand shivering around the fires are no men but boys. He sees Robb in every one of them, and Jon, and Bran and Rickon, and Theon, too.

The blood, the ashes, the battered steel: the snow claims it all. There's beauty in the glittering, depthless white. A single blackbird is looking at him with unblinking eyes, as if in recognition. He smiles and knows the hunger has driven him mad.

 

v

She watches him through bird eyes while her body fights the snows - doesn't even know if he's real until she finds them. She has winter in her bones now, and it feels like coming home.

(She very, very nearly didn't make it.)

 

vi

He's looking at her when she wakes up.

He's younger than she thought beneath his grey hair, his scars, and his sadness. His smiles are scarce, but the lines around his eyes say they weren't always.

'I brought you food,' she says.

(Oats, salted pork, and the horse will last for a week.)

'I can sing for you.'

(The shadow of a bird, just out of sight.)

Her hair spills through his fingers

(the colour of her feathers when she flies).

'Sleep, child,' he says.

 

vii

Covered in snow, everything becomes an insinuation; every noise a song;  
every shadow a memory.

A long time ago, he saw Brandon and Lyanna in so many faces he forgot what they looked like.

The bird's beak is black, he thinks, when it should be orange.

 

viii

Her name i **s A** layne. Her **n** ame i **s A** layne. Her name is Alayne.

Night gathers in the ruins, and she sings a song of spring.

 

ix

The first night she comes to him, it is to cry. He holds her in his arms and strokes her hair until she sleeps.

He wonders when he broke his vows and thinks it was a lifetime before he said them.

 

x

It takes her some time to understand what she needs, and food is getting sparse again.

(Father) was gentle with her, light, like a ghost. It could've been a dream, if not for his voice and that other name searing beneath her skin. She doesn't want the Wolf to be gentle. He must be wild and hungry. He must leave the mark of his teeth on her, as a wolf does on a bird. He must be cruel and break her apart so she can put the pieces back together the right way.

 

xi

'My father was a mockingbird,' she says. She feels light-headed until she sees him weeping.

Her body aches from the bruises he left on her, and there are marks on him too, scratches on his shoulder, like bird feet in the snow.

She takes his hand and places it over her heart. They are one.

 

xii

In the pale morning light, he begs for her forgiveness. She grants it and asks him for the same.  
Outside, the blackbird has flown away.

 

xiii

You win or you die. You win or you die. You win. Or you die.

Snow has fallen, is falling, must fall. Every song a noise, every memory a shadow. It doesn't make sense because it must not.

He smiles and knows he will die here.


End file.
